Almost everyone was in class that day.  I guess all the other students living in their own little bubble on campus were just as dumbfounded as I was.  There wasn’t much conversation among us that morning and when Doctor Robert Doyle entered, nobody said anything.  We didn’t have too.  All our eyes fixed on him in desperation.  It was like a flock of little sheep, trapped somewhere between desperation and complete meltdown.

By this time, the first rumors had begun to spread that the planes striking the buildings were not simple “accidents.” Apparently for Doctor Doyle, there was never any question in his mind: it was a terrorist attack.  I can never forget his message. There are people who seek to destroy our livelihood and while they may do great damage to us, they can win only if we allow them to govern our daily lives with fear.  Unlike many teachers, he didn’t dismiss class for the day.  He packed us off to the library to teach us how to do historical research.  On the way, he repeatedly told us that we must pray for the fallen, but that must not allow ourselves to be governed by tragedy.  Looking back on the situation years later, I finally understood that it was his military experience as a Vietnam Veteran that had kicked into gear.   In the midst of social disorder, he was showing us how to keep order in our lives- and for a short while, it worked.

On the way to the library, we passed a good friend of mine who was telling everyone that the second tower had just collapsed.  She was in a state of complete frenzy.  She grabbed every person that passed to tell them the news.  Our professor quickly moved us on into the library, sat us at computers and put us to work.  His efforts to keep us focused lasted only a short while, mostly because no one was researching on the computer.  We were all reading about the attacks.  He dismissed us 5 minutes early, apparently exhausted from trying to keep our attention.  We immediately took off, anxious to figure out what in the world was going on, but not one of us had a clue as to where to go.  I headed back to the student center.  By this point, the school had started a prayer vigil in the student center courtyard.  I joined in.  I can’t recall how many hours I was there, but I do know that it was hunger that finally forced me to leave again.

It wasn’t until after grabbing a bit to eat that I finally thought of calling my family.  We were well into the afternoon and my folks had tried to contact me a number of times.  Since my family lived in rural upstate New York, I guess I had thought there was no real threat to their safety.  In retrospect, people in NYC and Washington probably didn’t think there was anything threatening their lives either.  It wasn’t until sometime later that I learned my childhood friend’s father was killed that day. He apparently was on top of the towers in a business meeting when the planes struck.

The next few days after the attacks were, at best, a rude social awakening for me.  The campus was locked down.  No one was allowed on or off without proper identification.  A few of my close friends headed to New York to help with the cleanup.  I spent a good deal of time praying and wishing I had gone with my friends.  For the first time since I had started attending college I began to understand that there was world outside of my own.  Only months before 9/11 I had traveled to Europe without a worry.  I had flown in and out of JFK airport with just as much peace of mind as many of the people who boarded those ill-fated flights on that Tuesday morning in September.  It wasn’t until September 12^th that this “uninformed” kid began to think differently about his life, his family, and his closest friends.

(Brian Naples teaches government at Panola College.)